


what happened the last night

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1940s, Canon Compliant, First Time, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 11:41:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20852843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Bucky gets drunk, and Steve pays the price.





	what happened the last night

Steve wakes with a start as his pants are pulled off, large hands grabbing and manhandling him.

“Wha-”

He’s pushed on his stomach before he can react. Someone lies on top of him — or more accurately, rolls on top of him a crushing weight and presses Steve down against the lumpy mattress. The familiar smells of alcohol, Lucky Strikes, and Bucky hit Steve.

“Bucky?” Steve gasps. His head is spinning, trying to make sense of what’s happening.

Bucky’s still fully dressed — the texture of his trousers rough against Steve’s naked legs — but his dick is pulled out. It’s hot and heavy against Steve’s thighs, sandwiched between them. Bucky groans, mumbles something incoherent, and rolls his hips, his cock poking against the crease between Steve’s bare ass and his thighs.

Steve jerks and feels himself blush, his traitorous dick twitching with interest. He ignores it and tries to push Bucky off, with no luck. He slaps Bucky’s thigh sharply. “What the hell, Bucky — get off me! This ain’t funny!”

Bucky grabs his wrists with both hands and holds them down against the mattress. He rolls his hips again, his cock sliding against Steve’s flesh. “I know you want it,” Bucky slurs, his voice thick with the whiskey. “Please. Let me. I’ll make it good for you, Steve.”

Steve’s heart makes a skip. He tries to wrench his hands free, but it only makes Bucky tighten his hold. “No. Let me go.”

It’s like talking to a wall. “Gonna make you feel so good, Steve.” Bucky switches to holding Steve’s wrists down with only one hand, the another reaching between them for Bucky’s cock. He inches his hips closer to Steve’s and rubs his cock against Steve’s asshole, the sticky precum smearing on Steve’s skin.

Steve drops his head down. With the way Bucky’s pinning him down, there’s nothing he can do, nowhere to go to escape what’s happening. And the truly ashaming thing is that it does feel good. It’s wrong — he shouldn’t be enjoying this, not when it’s happening like this, not even when it’s Bucky who’s touching him so intimately. “Bucky. Stop.”

“Shh,” Bucky says and presses down slowly but with intent, his hard cock forcing Steve’s hole to give in under the pressure.

Steve yelps in pain. He quickly bites on the pillow under him to stop himself from screaming. No matter what, they can’t wake the neighbors — that wouldn’t save Steve, only damn them both.

Bucky stops pushing in before even the head of his dick is all the way in. “Fuck, feels so good, Stevie.”

Steve takes a shaky breath. Maybe Bucky won’t go any further. He has to have heard how Steve begged him to stop, he knows Steve doesn’t want this, not like this—

Bucky takes his hand off his cock and spits on it. He pulls away his cock from where it’s breaching Steve’s ass, but in the same instant his thick, calloused fingers are there, wet with spit and probing their way in.

Steve shakes his head, but he swallows the rest of his pleas — he can’t take it if Bucky dismisses them again. He can’t, not without breaking apart.

Bucky pushes the two fingers all the way in. The spit is not nearly enough to make the intrusion smooth.

Steve’s rim is on fire, tightly drawn around Bucky’s fingers. Steve bites down on the billow harder and shuts his eyes.

“So tight,” Bucky groans. He prods inside Steve, like a curious child let loose in a toy shop for the first time — with no other purpose than to poke around for fun, with no thought or concern for how the push and pull of his fingers stretches Steve painfully. Bucky crooks his fingers, spreads them, exploring Steve’s ridged channel thoroughly with his dirty fingers, no doubt still unwashed and nasty in his drunken haste to get his hands on Steve when he returned home.

Steve tries to relax his muscles around those intrusive fingers. Bucky isn’t showing signs of stopping, not before he gets all he wants — so the best Steve can do is not make this more painful than it already is.

Bucky pulls his fingers out. “Gonna feel so good, Stevie,” he mumbles. His cock pokes and bobs against Steve’s ass as Bucky searches for Steve’s hole, drunkenly clumsy with his aim.

For a wistful second Steve hopes that it will take so long that Bucky works himself up with all the prodding and cums on Steve’s back instead. Then they could almost laugh this off—

The unmistakable thick and blunt tip of a cock catches on Steve’s rim, and Bucky gasps. He starts to force his cock inside, the push of his powerful hips steady and unrelenting.

So this is how he’s gonna lose his virginity, Steve thinks wildly. It’s both exactly as he’s always dreamed of — with Bucky — and feared of — by force, against his will. Hah, with the way Bucky’s holding his wrists down, it’s even almost like they are holding hands.

Bucky’s cock stretches Steve’s hole impossibly wide, inch by inch digging inside him and splitting him open until Bucky’s hips press against Steve’s. Even his balls rest right on top of Steve’s.

Steve had thought he was pinned before, but that had been nothing compared to being speared on Bucky’s dick, not an inch of space between them, Bucky’s heavy weight almost crushing him. It’s a feeling Steve could love, if not for the way he’s under-prepped ass aches painfully as the constant remainder on how they got here.

“Feels so good,” Bucky sighs and kisses his shoulder. He nibbles on his skin, worries Steve’s skin between his teeth and tongue. His one hand is still holding Steve’s wrists, but the other runs up and down Steve’s side, grabbing and palming Steve’s flesh while Bucky’s hips roll lazily in shallow thrusts, his hips shifting and tilting with each thrust like he’s feeling up and exploring Steve’s insides again, just with his cock this time instead of his fingers. “God. Wanted this so long.”

Steve shudders. Yeah. He too. But not like this. He braces himself, expecting any moment now Bucky’s thrusts to get faster, deeper, turn into relentless fucking for his own pleasure.

Instead, Bucky’s movements slow down thrust by thrust. He stops nibbling on Steve’s skin and his head falls down to rest on Steve’s shoulder-blade. His warm breaths against Steve’s skin get deeper until he’s quietly snoring. His hips make only cursory twitches every now and then — his cock is still buried inside Steve, hard and keeping him stretched wide around it.

As Steve’s disbelief passes, he knows he should feel glad. And he does. But also, he feels humiliated. All this nightmare, and for what? For Bucky to pass out on him? Steve can’t stop the ridiculous thoughts — ‘Am I that bad fuck?’ — running inside his head. The prissy prideful part of him, the part that has no common sense, wants to shake Bucky awake and tell him to go through with what he started, that since he’s already ruined what they had he bloody well might at least do it properly, leave Steve as bruised and wrecked as he already feels inside.

*

In the morning, the thin, moth-eaten curtains aren’t enough to keep their bedroom in the darkness. The harsh dawn illuminates their room. The familiar cracks on the ceiling that have been there since they moved in. On top of the rickety dresser, the folded pile of Steve’s clothes, which Bucky washed on Monday but refused to put away — ‘I got my limits, Rogers, I ain’t your ma’.

Steve’s head is buzzing. The last night felt already so distant. In the light of the day, it felt almost ridiculous to think that any of it ever happened.

And yet. Bucky’s side of the bed is empty. The smell of tobacco and old whiskey linger in the room.

Steve closes his eyes.

There’s a subdued knock on the bedroom door. “Steve? You awake?”

“Yes.”

Bucky’s silent for a moment behind the door. “I’m leaving to my folks’ place. The rent money’s on the table.”

The words pierce through Steve painfully. More painfully than anything that happened last night, and in that instant he knows what he’s gotta do. “Bucky. Wait.”

When Steve opens the bedroom door, Bucky’s right outside. He looks a mess — his hair sticking everywhere, his eyes red. “What?”

“Don’t go.”

“Steve—”

“It’s okay. I wanted it.”

Bucky’s eyes turn haunted. “Don’t lie.”

“I mean it—”

“Steve. I know what I did.”

“Alright,” Steve agrees reluctantly. “I won’t lie. I didn’t want it to happen like that—”

“I’m sorry—”

“— but I don’t want you to go.”

“I can’t—”

“You owe me, don’t you? And this is what I ask. Stay.”

Bucky rubs his eyes. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” Steve says. “Stay. But no drinking. Ever again.”

“Wasn’t planning to.”

“And you gotta do it proper.”

“What?”

“Show me good time.”

“Steve. You’re mad.”

“Maybe,” Steve says, glaring at Bucky. “But you’re all I’ve got left and I’m not gonna lose you without a fight. And last night — we’ll get over it, okay? This ain’t the end of the line for me.”

Bucky’s smile is weak. “If this ain’t, then what is? You can’t let me get away with a murder.”

“I wouldn’t, don’t worry,” Steve lies, because he knows that he would. Without hesitation. Would excuse hundreds of them, help bury the bodies, burn the evidence, whatever it took to keep Bucky by his side.

So forgetting that one night ever happened? That was an easy decision, compared to the alternative — Bucky leaving him alone.

And if he has to conceal his flinch when they kiss for the first time, well, that’s his cross to bear.


End file.
